


Of Being Caught and Found

by mister_jacobi



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), M/M, Web Avatar Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mister_jacobi/pseuds/mister_jacobi
Summary: In which Martin and Jon are neighbours and multiple meet cutes ensue.However, Martin‘s new neighbour seems to come with baggage, house spiders and secrets.Martin‘s work environment can be described much the same.—Web!Jon AU
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Of Being Caught and Found

Organizing yourself at your new job is hard, Martin has been aware of that from the start. Somehow he had just hoped that this would be easier, considering he had only transferred departments within the same building. It should be easier, he only works with Tim and Sasha, who are both highly competent and Tim even knows his secret and help him all the time and Sasha is a great boss. Martin really couldn‘t wish for more, but…  
He sighs as he enters the elevator and presses the button to his level. It‘s exhausting, is all, he contemplates. There‘s not much more to it. Martin had liked it at the library and had found himself getting along quite well with his colleagues and being transferred again was a strain on his capabilities to handle stress and to adapt. It‘s no one‘s fault but his own. No one had forced him to lie on his CV, no one at all. It‘s just him. He can‘t wait to go to bed. 

“Wait!” Someone shouts from the hallway just as the doors of the old elevator are finally closing, and since Martin is nothing if not complacent, he puts his foot between the doors and waits patiently for the other person to enter. The mount approaching is currently more boxes than man, Martin realizes as he comes into his full field of vision, and automatically wants to reach for the box on top of the pile currently hiding a man.

“Do you need help? This looks heavy.” _And you look rather scrawny_ , he doesn’t say. But really, the man in front of him looks to be half his size in most dimensions, then again, it’s not like Martin isn’t used to being the biggest person in the room. “Oh yes thank you, that.. uhm” Martin is already reaching for the box on top of the pile, revealing the man beneath it. The man stares at him for a second as if unsure what to do with the situation and Martin dares to look at his face. A pretty face, he thinks. Tired and a little worn but elegant. A certain dignity that this man seems to carry apparent in his movements and his eyes of a soft warm brown. A good face, Martin decides. However, at the moment this _very good face_ is wearing a look of surprise, as if he had expected someone else to appear behind the box.

“Hm,” the man starts quietly, a soft smile forming on his lips, “thank you. That’s very kind of you. I’m uhm I’m Jonathan. Sims, that is. I just moved in, you don’t happen to be on of my new neighbours, do you?”

Martin blinks quickly, trying to tear his gaze away from the man’s lips. A very good face, indeed, even better with a smile. “Oh, hi. I’m Martin and you are in luck, I do live here.” He offers a smile in return and hopes he doesn’t look as drained as he feels. The other might be able to pull it off, but he knows his face only looked shrivelled and sad when his eye bags get too dark and deep.

He looks over Jonathan’s shoulder and sees no one else approaching and so he offers, “Do you need some more help? I don’t mind,” even though he would prefer to just go home and fall into his bed. Maybe put on a light hearted soap opera, not moving and/or thinking for a whole while. He has just come home from a very exhausting day at work after having recently been transferred and it was hell, but he’s never been able to resist a pretty face and more importantly, he knows how moving into a new home all on your own feels. So if he can help Jonathan be free of this loneliness, he doesn’t mind.

“Oh,” Jonathan says, his eyes blown wide as if surprised that someone was kind enough to offer help. “I don’t want to trouble you,” he says, his voice even softer and Martin just shakes his head. “You’re not. I’m offering. Despite, this will be done quicker if you’re not on your own. So, what storey?”

The man lives right across from him, as it turns out, which is very practical for multiple reasons. A) Martin can quickly discard his things in his flat without it costing too much time and B) it’s rather easy to offer that Jonathan could just knock on his door if he needs anything. _Anything at all, really_ Martin doesn’t say. The more he looks at Jonathan, the more he seems to notice about him. He is short, but compared to Martin most people are. He is younger than Martin had first thought, about his own age, actually, he would guess. The eyebags and few gray strands he had spotted had thrown him off for a moment, but the more he talks and gestures, the younger he seems. Martin feels like an asshole for even miscalculating in the first place.

The flat is the same size as his own but on the southern side of the building, which means Jonathan has a giant window front in his one bedroom apartment, where Martin has his balcony. As he looks through the window, he notices, that he can see his own balcony perfectly well. _Great,_ he thinks only mildly annoyed, _even more reason to feel watched._ But he’s glad to have someone there now, it had been weird to be living next to an entirely vacant apartment for so long. Empty windows, he often thinks, are such an obvious sign of emptiness and stillness, he hates it. It always makes him feel lonely.

They’re done rather quickly, though.

“I travel light,“ Jonathan says, as he notices Martin looking at the meagre boxes filling not even half the apartment and the mattress in one corner that Jonathan must have carried up there all by himself before he had joined him. “You do have furniture, right?” He asks and realizes how rude that question is, only when he sees the sad look on Jonathan’s face. “Uhm, not yet.” His voice is a little colder than it had been and Martin feels a pang of guilt at the detatched look that slowly grows on his new neighbour’s face. “Sorry, that is really not my place. It was clearly uncalled for. I don’t know what came over me.”

Jonathan looks up quickly, holding up his hands carefully. “No no, don’t worry.” He says and smiles at Martin again. Suddenly, Martin realizes that there’s something about him that feels off. Only now does Jonathan start to seem fully there. There had been a certain airiness about him before, like he had been there only physically and was only now coming to. But that is a weird and rude thing to say or think about someone you don’t know, so he forgets about this thought as soon as it occurs.

“Messy split,” Jonathan explains himself, and really he shouldn’t have to. Martin is being intrusive. “I’m lucky I even found a place that quickly,” he pauses, “very lucky,” he risks a grateful (flirty? No, Martin must be imagining things.) smile in his direction and Martin finds himself blushing, “considering the company I have here.”

“Well I’m glad to be of help. Do knock on my door, if you should ever need help with assembling some of the furniture in the future.” That, of course explains the _je nais se quois_ about him that Martin hadn’t been able to put his finger on. Messy split, he’s grieving a relationship. Martin, too, would be a little distracted if he had to unexpectedly just start anew all on his own, after having had someone with him and considering it save.

“Oh! Thank you.” The look on his face really does look like he’s grateful and somehow Martin feels so much less tired. “No need, if you already managed to win the lottery in the London flat market, the least I can do to show my admiration is help around a bit.”

Jonathan laughs at this and it sounds melodic and nice and Martin wonders momentarily how long it’s been since he had made someone outside of work laugh. He blushes and looks away.

“In that case, let me buy you dinner, to show my appreciation? It doesn’t have to be tonight, if you’re tired or busy, I’ve kept you long enough, but I just want to put it out there.”

“Oh,” he blushes even more and his heart does a little backflip, “I’d like that very much. I do need to finish some work tonight though, how about Friday?”

“Friday. It’s a date. Who knows, maybe I’ll even have a table until then. Maybe even a chair.”

“Maybe, if not, I’ve always considered eating on the floor oddly charming.”

“The window is big enough, certainly sitting there and watching all of London will be grand.”

“I’m sure.”

As he goes back into his flat, Martin finds himself surprisingly okay. He does his usual check: Am I tired? Am I hungry? Am I sad? Am I okay?  
How am I feeling?  
And the feedback is actually good. He‘s tired, but the normal amount of tired. The _I‘ve had a shit day at work_ kind of tired, not the _I don‘t know how I will get out of bed tomorrow_ kind of bone deep exhaustion he would usually feel after a stressful day at work. He feels hungry but that was a given, he had been on his feet for ten hours now, he supposes he deserves something to eat. And all in all? He‘s feeling fine.  
The unexpected social interaction with his new neighbour must have given him a mood boost and Martin for his part is not going to complain about it.  
Instead, he reaches for his phone and writes down a new event in his calendar: _Dinner with Jonathan on Friday_

Maybe Martin finds himself smiling at his phone and maybe he considers that his flat already feels warmer just by sharing a wall with Jonathan, maybe Martin is really looking forward to their dinner. (Only dinner, not date. Though Jonathan had said it‘s a date, hasn‘t he? Oh lord, is this going to be a date?)

Martin‘s heart dropped into his stomach.

_Is this going to be a date???_

No way, Jonathan had said that he just came out of a relationship, he wouldn‘t just… but he did flirt, right? Did he?

Never mind, that‘s a problem for another day (Friday to be exact) and Martin is not going to ruin his own mood by overthinking something that is still five days away.

When he goes into work the next day, he feels something nice and warm in his stomach, because for the first time in a good chunk of time, he has actual plans for the weekend. He has plans. Someone wants to be with him outside of being paid for it.  
Martin knows, logically, that Tim and Sasha wouldn‘t object to hanging out outside of work, and he also knows that Jonathan has never officially stated an interest in being with him, only in saying thank you for his help. He logically knows that this is not the same, but he wants it to be and if it helps getting through the day, god damn it, Martin is willing to lie to himself.

He finds himself wearing a smile, as he makes the first round of tea in the morning and during lunch. Even while researching awful stories he hopes are made up because he wouldn‘t wish that on anyone, he smiles.  
Tim, of course doesn‘t miss this. He‘s not at work because he enjoys the gruesome stories, not because he likes their bosses boss so much and enjoys how creepy even the crappy interior design is. He‘s here because he likes the people in his direct vicinity (and other more dreadful reasons, but that‘s no one‘s business now, is it?) Martin is not the only one who enjoys lying to himself.

And so, as Martin whistles a little tune and prepares the tea, Tim watches him with intend eyes and can‘t help but smile in return.  
“You‘re in a good mood today,“ he says, the smile brightening as Martin turns around, obviously surprised to not be alone in the break room.

“Tim, jesus, you‘re gonna give me a heart attack,“ he whines and Tim just chuckles at him, because scaring Martin is maybe cruel, but it‘s also the only hobby he can still go after while working in the archives. Laughing at his expense, though, seems to spark a little flame of mischief in Martin, who in return grabs one of the teabags and throws it at Tim.

“Stop assaulting me!“ He laughs, as the third bag hits him square on the head.  
“Then stop a) sneaking up on me and b) laughing at me,“ Martin says in return and Tim could have found it intimidating, if not for the fact that Martin himself is laughing. Isn‘t that a nice sound to hear? Laughter is such a rarity, the realization hits Tim square in the stomach. Seeing Martin actually laugh with humour, not just a sensible chuckle, all big red cheeks and threatening tummy aches, Tim wonders how often this has happened between them. He worries he could probably count the instances on one hand.

“Okay, okay“ he says, holding up his hands in defeat, “I surrender.“

Martin let‘s his arm fall, his hand still holding one of the teabags, “I knew my threatening abilities would make you crumble in fear, thank you for being sensible enough to stop before it has gotten out of hand.“ He clears his throat, only to once again jump in surprise, when Sasha raises her voice.  
“Considering the fall of all these teabags, I would think it has already gotten plenty out of hand.“

“Sasha! I.. I‘m sorry, I will clean this and bring a new box, don‘t worry. I didn‘t mean to…“ he instantly falls to his knees to collect the bags from the floor, heat rising to his cheeks as he internally reprimands himself on being unprofessional.

“It‘s all good,“ Sasha says and kneels down as well and helps collecting the tea, “it was a joke, Martin. Tim and I have enough shenanigans between us during the work day, don‘t worry. I would never hold being in a good mood against you.“ She hopes he knows that, hopes he knows that she wants to be friends and not just his boss. She never wanted to be the kind of boss who her subordinates have to fear.

Martin just smiles at her, a softness in his eyes that she hopes will stay there.  
“Tim‘s right, though, you are in a good mood today. Did something happen?“ She asks as they both get up again and tries to bring the conversation back to a light hearted note.  
“Oh, well..“ Martin stutters for a second and looks at Tim, then back at Sasha, “I mean, not really? I just… I have a new neighbour and he is…“ Martin think of what to say about him _pretty, attractive, well spoken, kind, sweet, cute._ None of these verbs seem to fit. “He just seems nice and he invited me over for dinner on Friday and I am very much looking forward to it.“

“A date?“ Tim jumps up and throws an arm around Martin‘s shoulder, “Is he… you know,“ he wiggles is eyebrows.  
“N-not a date, Tim. And no, I don‘t know. Stop suggesting things with your eyebrows.“  
He laughs again, “I was just wondering if he‘s your type, if he‘s cute. If you can imagine it being a date and you know the normal stuff, can you imagine marrying him, loving his good and bad sides, sickness and health, can you imagine having kids with him et cetera et cetera.“

“You‘re impossible,“ Martin sighs, “I‘ve met the man once, all I know is he‘s pretty and needed help moving in. So I helped and Friday he wants to thank me by having dinner with me. No marriage proposal yet and I think the adoption has to wait until date number four at least.“ He shakes his head and swallows his own grin as Tim‘s face once again lights up, “so it is a date?“

“I.. don‘t know. No idea. But…“ He pauses.  
It‘s Sasha‘s turn now as she smiles and softly says, “but you‘d like it to be,“ no humour, no accusation, just understanding and something Martin reads as hopefulness.

She knows him, knows it‘s been a while, knows of course, that he‘s lonely. It stings, feels like pity to him, but he knows to appreciate concern, even if it is misplaced.

He goes home that day and sits on his old sofa.

There is a wall in his apartment that has been cold for months. And for the first time, he hears someone else move behind it. Normal people, he‘s sure, would be annoyed by how thin the walls are, but Martin is relieved, it feels like a restart. He feels less alone already.


End file.
